The Clone Wars
by Vinacular
Summary: A chronicle of the journey of a clone trooper throughout the Clone Wars.


Baptism by Fire

Our whole lives had been building up to this one moment. Years of training had forged us into the finest soldiers the galaxy had ever seen. And yet at the bottom of my stomach I couldn't help but feel a little anxious. We rode in silence in our gunship, having departed the comfort of our transport ship. Through my visor, I could see the helmets of my brothers. Though I couldn't see their faces, I knew we all shared a look of grim determination.

The gunship doors slid open and revealed the red, barren landscape of Geonosis. "Looks nothing like Kamino" RT-8362 noted. His remark summed up our thoughts quite well. The dust and dunes of this desert planet was practically the antithesis of our rainy homeworld.

"Quite the astute observation," our lieutenant RT-8990 jabbed. "Perhaps a promotion to intelligence officer would be fitting." We followed the lieutenant, clad in the red-striped armor of his rank, off the gunship and onto foreign soil for the first time in our lives. The crimson ground felt solid beneath my boots.

We had been placed on top of a ridge with a relatively steep, but manageable slope. Below this ridge we could already see a mass of droids battling our brothers below. It occurred to me that for the first time, some of us must have already lost their lives. The first of many sacrifices in a war that was sure to see the deaths of countless more.

Having unloaded its passengers, the gunships departed and headed off into the fray to provide aerial support. "Alright boys, over here. Let's get this show on the road." '90 beckoned our platoon of 40 clones, with his four yellow-green armored sergeants beside him - RT-4567, RT-2322, RT-2191, and RT-8765. "Simple boys, we are supporting the advance and we will decimate the droids that lay in front of us. High ranking Separatists are attempting to flee as we speak and the droid army intends to safeguard their evacuation."

"They're not getting away so easy." '65 declared.

"Well why don't we stop the yapper and get on with it then?" RT-7032 asked.

Behind the lieutenant's helmet I'm sure there was a smirk, as he agreed and ordered us to move out. We split up into our respective 10-man squads and marched forward. And by march, I mean we charged into battle. "FOR THE REPUBLIC!" we all yelled in glorious unison.

The frontline had already been established and besides the shiny backs of other clones we saw for the first time battle droids as red blaster bolts whizzed by us. "Welcome to the party" a clone said to us, staring down the sight of his blaster. The arrival of 40 fresh clones made an immediate impact as we mowed down our droid counterparts. The satisfying sight of one of my blue blaster bolts shattering a droid was exhilarating. It seemed like we outnumbered the droids three to one, at least in this part of the line.

"Can you believe these trash heaps?" RT-0083 laughed. "Couldn't hit the hull of a starcruiser." We pushed forward and the droids seemed to melt before us. And then in the midst of the chaos of battle, a fierce dust storm began to kick up. What the hell. Why now? The red soil clouded the entire battlefield, enveloping the droids in a dusty haze. I could see maybe eight feet in front of me, but even then not very well.

"I can't see a thing!" I yelled, still holding the trigger of my blaster. Sure enough the blaster bolts found their way through the wall of Geonosian dust. A red flash collided with someone to my left. Fuck. It was '83. What a twist of cruel irony. Only when we couldn't even see the damn droids could they hit one of us. "He's dead" our sergeant '22 said, not pausing for an instant. "Right to the chest, there's nothing we can do for him." I didn't feel as heartless, pausing, lowering my blaster. I looked back at the corpse of '83. A black mark on his chest showed me the bolt found its target. "WHAT DID I SAY!" '22 yelled, wrapping his arm around me and shoving me forward. "You want to do something about it? KEEP MOVING."

"Wait," I managed, still looking back at '83 "where's '16?" I yelled out looking around frantically for our squad's medic.

"Don't bother, Sarge is right" RT-7845 said grimly, plodding forward. I knew they were right, but I still couldn't help but feel like we were abandoning him. I found myself almost in a trance, looking at the lifeless, broken form of '83, blaster at his side. Mustering all the mental strength I had in me, I managed to turn away and keep moving forward. I swear, that was harder than anything else in my life. More brutal than any training regimen I endured on Kamino.

But that's what we had to do. No doubt many more of us, maybe even me, would be dead by the time we killed the rest of the droids on this damn planet. I did what I had to. I moved forward.


End file.
